Cassandra POV
The gold gleamed warmly in the dim light of the hut.
Cassandra turned one of the coins between her fingers, watching how the firelight danced across its surface. A Gold Dragon, stamped with the familiar crowned face, worn slightly at the edges from passing through too many hands. She let it fall with a soft clink onto the small pile in her palm.
Five in total.
Not a large fortune, but more than enough for something so simple.
Her lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile.
"The things people will pay for love," she murmured.
She set the coins down on the wooden table, arranging them neatly, almost carefully, as though they were pieces in a game rather than payment. Her blue eyes lingered on them for a moment longer before drifting to the small glass vial beside them.
Inside, the liquid shimmered faintly, a soft, enchanting purple.
A love potion.
Harmless, some would say. Useful, others would argue.
Cassandra knew better.
Her smile deepened, though it held no warmth.
"She was a pretty thing," Cassandra said quietly, her voice almost thoughtful. "Pale skin… brown eyes… and that smile…" She let out a faint breath through her nose. "So certain the world would bend for her."
She picked up the vial and tilted it slightly, watching the liquid cling to the glass.
"Too bad."
A soft laugh escaped her, light, almost musical.
"That potion will ruin her."
She imagined it already, the slow unravelling, the way desire would twist into obsession, how longing would rot into something desperate and hollow. Not death. Not even pain, not at first.
Something worse.
Dependency.
Her laughter lingered for a moment longer—
Then stopped.
Abruptly.
Cassandra's expression changed. The amusement drained from her face, replaced by something sharper. Colder.
She turned her head slightly, eyes narrowing as she stared at nothing in particular.
She felt it.
A presence.
No, not just a presence.
Magic.
Old. Familiar.
Her fingers curled slightly against the table.
"…Her," Cassandra whispered.
The air in the hut seemed to tighten. Even the birds above shifted uneasily, feathers rustling in soft agitation.
"Her magic…" she added, quieter now.
For a moment, Cassandra said nothing. She simply stood there, feeling it, like a distant echo brushing against her senses. It was faint, but unmistakable.
Her sister.
A flicker of irritation crossed her face, quickly followed by something darker.
"She's meddling again," Cassandra muttered.
Her gaze drifted toward the doorway.
She did not need to call.
He was already there.
The Black Devil stood just beyond the threshold, silent as ever, his towering form casting a long shadow across the floor. The faint red glow within his helm pulsed steadily, like a slow, controlled fire.
Cassandra didn't look at him immediately. She let the silence stretch, as though savouring the moment.
Then she spoke.
"You."
Her voice was calm, but it carried weight.
The Black Devil stepped forward, bowing his head slightly.
"There is a disturbance," she said. "An unwanted one."
She turned her gaze toward him now, her blue eyes sharp, almost gleaming.
"Deal with it."
A pause.
Then, more quietly—
"With her."
There was no hesitation.
The Black Devil turned at once, moving toward the door with heavy, deliberate steps. The hut seemed smaller as he passed through it, the air shifting in his wake.
He did not speak.
He never did.
The door creaked as he stepped out into the night, his massive form quickly swallowed by the darkness of the Kingswood.
Silence returned.
Cassandra remained still for a moment, listening, not with her ears, but with something deeper. Feeling the faint thread of magic stretching outward, tightening.
Then she exhaled slowly.
Her hand drifted back to the table, brushing lightly against the coins.
Five Gold Dragons.
Her smile returned, but this time, it was thinner. Sharper.
"Let us see," she murmured softly, "how this ends."
Above her, the birds shifted once more, their eyes glinting faintly in the firelight.
And far beyond the hut, in the depths of the forest—
Something had already begun to move.
Lyonel POV
Lyonel had lost all sense of time.
The forest stretched endlessly around him, the Kingswood growing thicker, darker, more suffocating with every step he took. The path, if it could even be called that, had long since vanished. Roots twisted across the ground like serpents, and branches clawed at him as he pushed forward.
But he did not stop.
He followed Cloud.
The great white bird moved through the trees with unnatural grace, gliding when it could, weaving when it must, always just ahead of him, always watching. Sometimes it circled back, as if to check he still followed. Other times it soared forward, urging him onward into deeper shadow.
Lyonel's breath came steady now; his ribs did not ache faintly with every inhale. His hand never strayed far from the hilt of Adder's Fang. The blade felt heavier than before, not in weight, but in meaning.
This is it, he thought. This is where it ends.
The deeper they went, the quieter the forest became.
No birds. No insects. No wind.
Only the soft crunch of Lyonel's boots against the earth, and even that seemed too loud.
Cloud suddenly slowed, wings beating once before it descended, landing lightly on a low branch ahead. Its posture changed. It was no longer guiding.
It was watching.
Lyonel felt it too.
A presence.
Cold. Heavy. Watching him from somewhere unseen.
His grip tightened on the sword.
Then—
RAHHHHHHHHH!!!
The scream tore through the forest like thunder.
Lyonel froze.
Every muscle in his body locked. His heart slammed against his ribs as the sound echoed through the trees, shaking the very air around him.
The Black Devil.
There was no mistaking it.
Lyonel swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.
Cloud reacted instantly. The bird leapt from the branch and swooped down, landing squarely on his head once more. Its wings spread wide, feathers bristling, and it let out a sharp, piercing cry, a challenge.
A battle cry.
It was ready.
Lyonel exhaled slowly, forcing his fear down, burying it beneath something stronger.
Duty. Faith. Resolve.
He drew Adder's Fang.
The Valyrian steel slid free with a soft, whispering sound, catching what little light filtered through the trees. The blade seemed darker than before, its rippling surface alive in a way he couldn't explain.
Lyonel lowered his head slightly.
"Warrior," he murmured under his breath, "grant me strength."
His voice was quiet, but steady.
He lifted his gaze.
And in that moment—
Something moved.
A blur.
Fast. Too fast.
Lyonel's eyes widened just as something shot toward his head.
Instinct took over.
He ducked.
The object tore through the air where his head had been a heartbeat before, slicing past with a sharp whistle. Cloud launched upward at the same instant, wings beating hard as it took to the air.
Lyonel spun around.
The object struck a tree behind him with a violent crack.
He stared.
A thick wooden branch, no, not a branch. A broken length of wood, sharpened at one end, was buried deep into the trunk, lodged there as if driven by immense force.
Not thrown.
Launched.
Lyonel's stomach dropped.
Slowly, he looked back toward the darkness of the forest.
Whatever had thrown that… was close.
Very close.
He tightened his grip on Adder's Fang, his knuckles whitening around the hilt.
"By the Seven…" he whispered, voice barely holding.
A cold realization settled over him.
"I am… completely fucked."
Lyonel wanted to run.
Every instinct inside him screamed for it.
The forest around him felt too small, too dark, too cold. The air itself seemed poisoned by the thing stalking toward him through the trees. His hands were slick against the grip of Adder's Fang, his pulse hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat.
Run.
It was the simplest answer. The wisest one.
He could turn now, disappear into the woods, flee back to the witch's hut, flee back to the Stormlands, flee anywhere that was not here, not standing in the path of that towering thing.
He almost did.
Then another thought rose inside him.
A knight should not run.
He tightened his jaw.
But doubt answered him immediately, sharp and cruel.
You ran from the bandits, did you not?
His chest tightened.
Yes. He had.
He had fled. He had run through the trees like prey while lesser men chased him.
The shame of it burned.
I was hurt, he told himself. I had no choice.
But even as he thought it, the excuse felt weak.
He swallowed and steadied his grip on the sword.
No. Not this time.
Cloud interrupted the storm inside his head.
The great white bird swooped down from above and landed on Lyonel's head once more, wings spreading wide like a banner.
Then the Thunderbird cried out.
CAWWWWWWWWWW!
The sound ripped through the trees like thunder itself, sharp, fierce, defiant.
It was not fear.
It was a challenge.
Lyonel blinked.
"This little shit is going to get me killed," he muttered under his breath.
And yet… somehow, the ridiculous courage of the bird steadied him.
He stared into the darkness ahead.
And then he saw them.
Two burning red eyes.
They glowed from the shadows like coals buried in ash, cold and merciless.
Lyonel's stomach dropped.
For one awful heartbeat, pure terror seized him so suddenly and completely that he nearly lost control of his body.
He had faced bandits.
He had faced armed men.
But this—
This was something else.
The Black Devil stepped into view.
The monstrous black armour seemed to swallow the moonlight, every movement heavy and deliberate. It looked less like a man and more like a walking fortress, its great frame towering over Lyonel as something dragged from a nightmare.
Lyonel's bowels turned to water.
Seven save me.
But he forced himself not to step back.
He was Lyonel Dondarrion.
A knight of House Dondarrion.
Knighted by the King himself.
He had sworn vows before gods and men.
The Seven had watched over him before.
They would not abandon him now.
Cloud leapt from his head and surged skyward.
The Black Devil charged.
The ground shook under its steps.
It moved with terrifying speed for something so massive, its armoured bulk crashing through brush and root alike as it rushed him.
Then—
A voice spoke in Lyonel's mind.
The old woman.
Your sword can hold his blows. Trust in yourself. Trust in your blade.
Lyonel sucked in one breath.
Then, in the space of a heartbeat, he whispered one last prayer, not for himself.
Mother, keep my brother safe and his daughter safe.
The Black Devil swung.
The blow came like a battering ram, fast, brutal, impossible.
Lyonel raised Adder's Fang with both hands.
CLANG!
The impact exploded through his arms.
The sound rang through the trees as a bell struck.
The force drove Lyonel back a full step, boots tearing into the dirt, but the sword held.
The Black Devil paused.
Lyonel stared.
The creature was shocked.
It had expected to crush him.
That heartbeat of surprise was enough.
Lyonel moved.
With a shout, he lunged forward, driving Adder's Fang straight into the Devil's chest.
The Valyrian steel punched through black armour.
The resistance was terrible, harder than any plate he had ever pierced, but the blade forced its way in.
Dark blood spilled from the wound.
The Black Devil staggered.
Lyonel's eyes widened.
I hurt it.
Cloud screamed overhead.
CAWWWWWWWW!
The white bird dropped from the sky like a spear, slamming into the Devil's helm. Wings battered at its head, claws scraping against the black metal.
The Devil reeled, momentarily blinded.
Lyonel ripped the sword free.
The creature roared, a horrible sound, more beast than man.
Lyonel didn't hesitate.
He stepped in again, swinging for the neck with all the strength left in him.
The blade came down—
But the Devil raised its hand.
Adder's Fang struck the gauntlet, slicing through the armoured fingers.
Steel parted.
The blade cut through the fingers—
And continued into the side of the helmet.
It bit deep.
Halfway into the Devil's skull.
The creature froze.
Lyonel gasped, straining to force the blade deeper, but it stuck fast.
The Devil jerked violently, trying to wrench away.
Cloud screamed again.
The Thunderbird rose high, wings wide, then folded and dove.
It hit the hilt of the sword with all its speed and weight.
The impact drove the blade the rest of the way through.
The Black Devil shuddered.
Then went still.
Silence.
The giant stood there for one impossible moment, motionless, sword buried through its head.
Then the massive armoured body collapsed.
It hit the earth with a crash that shook the ground beneath Lyonel's boots.
The forest went quiet.
Lyonel stood frozen, staring.
His breath came in ragged bursts.
His hands trembled violently.
His heart hammered so hard it hurt.
He looked at the fallen monster.
Then, at Cloud, circling overhead.
Then back at the dead thing on the ground.
"Holy…" he whispered, breathless.
He let out a wild, disbelieving laugh.
"Holy fuck."
His knees nearly gave out from the rush of it all.
He was alive.
The Black Devil was dead.
And it had happened so fast that his mind could barely keep up.
He stood there panting in the moonlit clearing, sword slick with black blood, staring at the corpse of the nightmare he had somehow slain.